


Witness

by HarmonyLover



Category: Bandstand - Oberacker/Oberacker & Taylor
Genre: Gen, Holocaust, Holocaust Remembrance Day, Mentions of homophobia, Swearing, mentions of Dachau
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 12:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17580638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmonyLover/pseuds/HarmonyLover
Summary: When Jimmy gets called to retrieve Davy from a bar, he learns things about his friend that he didn't expect.





	Witness

**Author's Note:**

> This was based off of [a Tumblr post](http://klaineharmony.tumblr.com/post/182379725788/aportraitofinsanity-okay-but-what-if-davy-was). I’ve had this floating around in my head for a while, ever since I saw the original post, and then when I realized yesterday morning that it was Holocaust Remembrance Day, well … this happened. This is very much not betaed, just written in a couple of spurts over the last day, so please forgive any errors. I changed the ending just a bit from my original post on Tumblr, because I like the new version better. :)

Jimmy sighed as he took in the figure of Davy, slumped over the bar, hanging on to a shot glass even in his drunken stupor.

None of them, not even Julia, had been able to get Davy to lay off the bottle - but he’d had far fewer really bad days since the band had come home from their tour, almost a year ago. He drank still, but rarely to the point he was tonight.

He was bad tonight. As bad as Jimmy had ever seen him.

The band hadn’t had a show tonight; it was a Monday. They usually scattered to their respective homes and lodgings, but Jo always knew where Jimmy was. She had called his rooming house because the bartender had called her, after Davy had asked for Jimmy. Jo knew every bartender and bouncer in Cleveland, and she had made it clear to every one of them that if ever any of the band members were in trouble, they were to call her. 

Jimmy had no idea why Davy had asked for him, but he couldn’t leave him like this.

He approached the bar slowly. He didn’t want to startle Davy; they all still carried those scars.

“Hey, big guy,” he said quietly in greeting. “What do you say to going home?”

Davy lifted his head up, fixing bleary, exhausted eyes on Jimmy. “Jimmy. Skinny Jimmy. I wanted t’see you.”

“I know,” Jimmy said, resting a hand on Davy’s shoulder. “Jo said that you were asking for me. Let’s get you in a cab and you can tell me all about it on the way home, okay?”

Davy shook his head slowly. “Don’t want to go home. It’s too quiet there, an’ then I hear ev’rythin’. See ev’rythin’. Won’t go away.”

“What if I go with you and keep you company?” Jimmy suggested. “Would that help?”

Davy considered that, with the patient consideration of the very drunk. “It might.”

Jimmy slung one of Davy’s arms over his shoulder. “Come on, then. Up. We’ll get your coat and get a cab.” He gave a quick nod to the bartender, Dan. “Thanks.”

Dan gave him an understanding nod in return, and Davy staggered to his feet, leaning on Jimmy. Jimmy got him into his coat, with some awkward maneuvering, and then out to the curb, where he managed to hail a cab. The cab driver looked at Davy suspiciously, probably worried about vomit on his upholstery, but Jimmy waved him off. “He’s not a puker; he just needs to get home.”

“Well, as long as you watch him,” the driver said begrudgingly, and Jimmy got Davy into the cab before clambering in himself. He gave the driver the address of Davy’s apartment, which he only knew because Jo had reminded him of it. Davy was almost never there, and Jimmy was beginning to understand why. 

Despite Jimmy’s invitation to talk, Davy was silent on the way back. He wasn’t asleep, though; Jimmy kept glancing over at him, and his eyes were open. His face was unutterably weary.

Jimmy helped him out of the cab again and supported him up the walk.

“Give me your keys, Davy; we’ll get in faster,” he said lightly as they reached the door to the apartment building. Davy fumbled in his pocket for his keys and willingly handed them over to Jimmy.

Davy’s apartment wasn’t quite as joyless as Jimmy had feared. It was clean and neat, with plain but useful furniture, though there was almost nothing that expressed Davy’s vibrant personality. It might as well have been a hotel.

“Couch or bed?” Jimmy asked him, and Davy sighed heavily. 

“Bed. Please. Won’t sleep, but it’s soft.”

They made their way down the hall together, and Jimmy flipped on the light as they went through the bedroom doorway. Here, too, army habits prevailed: bed made with hospital corners, shoes placed with military precision underneath, everything neatly ordered. He eased Davy down on the bed as best he could before untying his shoes and pulling them off, placing them with the others.

“Thanks,” Davy said tiredly. He began working at his shirt buttons slowly, stripping down to his undershirt before leaning back on his pillows and closing his eyes. Jimmy took the armchair in the room, watching him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked gently. 

Davy gave a short, bitter laugh. “Do any of us ever want to talk about it?”

“No,” Jimmy acknowledged. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t.”

Davy was silent a long time, and Jimmy waited. If nothing else, the presence of another person did seem to be calming for Davy. After perhaps half an hour of silence, he finally spoke.

“This was the day we liberated the camp.”

Jimmy let out a slow breath. “Jesus.” 

“I never stop seeing them, Jimmy. They were - they were walking skeletons,” Davy said, his voice hushed and his eyes painfully lucid for someone who was so intoxicated. “They were starved, walking skeletons. They didn’t even look human. They were wearing rags, and crying, and some of them were so weak they could barely move. There were piles of shoes, and hair, and  _ teeth _ ,  _ fillings _ for Christ’s sake -” he broke off, swallowing. Jimmy’s stomach twisted.

“They were so goddamned grateful for us, and the whole time I couldn’t stop thinking that it should have been me.”

Jimmy went still, a chilling terror creeping into him. “What do you mean?”

Davy closed his eyes again. “In my top drawer. Under the socks.”

Jimmy went to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer with trembling hands. When he moved the piles of folded socks aside, he found a small leather pouch. He tugged at the drawstring with shaking fingers, and a fine gold necklace fell into his hand when he tipped the pouch over.

A Star of David pendant sat in his palm.

Jimmy turned back to Davy, staring at the necklace in his hand. Davy was still on the bed, not moving, but Jimmy could see his throat working.

“Davy,” he breathed. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Davy made a sound that was dangerously close to a sob. He opened his eyes, fixing Jimmy with a glare. “You’re really going to ask me why? After everything I saw? With everything I can’t  _ stop _ seeing? I stopped wearing that right before I joined up, you know. It was a gift from my mother, and she wanted me to wear it overseas, but I was afraid something would happen to it. I was afraid someone would see it. I was afraid the other guys in my unit would hate me for it.”

“We aren’t -” Jimmy began, but Davy cut him off.

“And then, after Dachau, do you think I could  _ stand _ the thought of wearing that again? After seeing what happened to all of those people, my people, the hell and torture the Nazis put them through?  We hadn’t been soon enough to save most of them, and the ones that were left were  _ grateful _ .”

He spat out the word as if it were poisonous.

“Grateful. When we had failed millions of them.”

Jimmy closed his hand around the necklace. “You saved the ones who were left. You brought them home. And even if they didn’t know it, it was one of their own helping them. You did all you could have done.”

“Maybe at that point, but what about all the years before? All the years when the Nazis were rounding people up and sending them away, gassing them, burning them to death,” Davy ground out. “Our country did so little. We didn’t even take the refugees. I thought if I fought, at least I would help in my own way - but then when I saw - Christ, Jimmy.” Davy ran a hand through his hair and got shakily to his feet. “I need a drink.”

“Woah, hang on,” Jimmy said, as he shot up from his chair and blocked Davy from moving, while knowing full well that if Davy really wanted to get past him, there was no way Jimmy could stop him. “You’ve had enough tonight, Davy. Sit.”

Davy stared at him for a moment. “There’s never enough. Don’t you know that?” Despite his words, however, he sank back down onto the mattress, burying his head in his hands.

Jimmy sat next to him, gingerly, and put a hand on his arm. “Davy. Trying to erase it won’t make it go away. And I know none of us are great at talking - that’s why we play - but you can talk to us. The band knows about me, and they don’t care. Why do you think it would matter to them if you’re Jewish? You’re one of us. That’s what matters.”

Davy shook his head. “Why do you think I wanted to see you, beanpole?” His eyes met Jimmy’s, and for the first time there was a little bit of humor and affection there. “I knew you’d get it. I’m not sure they would.”  

“I think they would, as well as they can,” Jimmy said quietly. “But thanks for the trust.”

Davy clasped his hands together, staring at them intently. “You know what the kicker is?”

Jimmy shook his head, waiting.

“There were guys like us in that camp, too. Not just guys like me. Guys like us.”

Jimmy stared at him, but Davy wouldn’t look at him. He kept talking.

“They had pink triangles on their arms, instead of stars. Upside down. None of the people we saved said anything about them, but we’d all been told, unofficially, what groups the Nazis had gone after.”

Davy finally raised his head, and his eyes were wet. “So if I’d been living over there, instead of over here, I would have been dead either way.”

_ To hell with boundaries _ , Jimmy thought grimly, and put his arm around Davy’s shoulders. “But you  _ weren’t _ ,” he said fiercely. “You  _ weren’t _ , and because you liberated that camp, because you saw it with your own eyes, you can be a witness to what happened. That matters. You can bear witness for all of those people who didn’t survive. Maybe that’s better than trying to drown in a bottle.”

“Maybe,” Davy acknowledged, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “That’s better than thinking I’m carrying all of this around in my head for nothing.”

“Not nothing,” Jimmy said. “You remember. And that’s important.” He paused. “I don’t talk about Charlie, but when he died . . . his parents didn’t invite me to the funeral. The navy recovered his body, but it was a mess, so Charlie’s parents had him cremated, and they didn’t invite me to the funeral. They would never acknowledge that I was more to him than just a friend. They ignored, completely, a huge part of their son’s life. They’ve distorted him. But I’m still here. I know who he was, and if losing him -” Jimmy paused again, and took a ragged breath - “if losing him ever stops hurting, and I can talk about him more, I can represent him as he truly was.”

Davy reached out and squeezed Jimmy’s knee. “He was lucky,” he said quietly. “To have you. And thanks for the trust.”

“Thanks for saying that,” Jimmy returned. “You’re welcome. Why did you never say anything?” 

Davy shrugged helplessly. “One more way to be isolated?”

“There are more of us, you know,” Jimmy said. “Jo, for one. She adores you already. And there’s a group of us that gets together every once in a while - we’ll pick a restaurant or a bar, different place every time, unless we know the person who runs it. You don’t have to be alone.”

Davy chuckled. “Jo, eh? I should have known that.”

Jimmy realized he was still clutching Davy’s necklace in his free hand. “Did you want me to put this away?” he asked.

“Leave it on the dresser,” Davy said softly. “Maybe I’ll put it back on in the morning.”

Jimmy rose from the bed, scrubbing his face with his free hand. He placed the necklace gently on the dresser with its pouch before asking, “You have an extra blanket?”

“Jimmy, I’m fine. Too sober now, but fine. You don’t have to stay,” Davy protested.

“Well, I have news for you, big guy - I’m exhausted, and I’m staying. And you shouldn’t be alone,” Jimmy said firmly. “I can roll up on the floor in here, or take the couch. Your choice.” 

Davy stared at him and Jimmy stared back, the two of them carrying on a silent argument, before Davy caved in. “There’s an extra pillow and blanket in the hall closet,” he said. 

Jimmy went and retrieved said pillow and blanket, then proceeded to make a pallet on the floor, without bothering to ask Davy’s opinion again. The man needed company, even the silent kind - and Jimmy was shaken enough by what he had heard that he rather preferred the company as well. He curled into the blanket, and found he was quite comfortable. 

“Jimmy?” Davy said from up above him.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming to get me. Thanks for listening.”

Jimmy smiled, but his eyes were solemn. “We fight the same fight, Davy Zlatic - or part of it, at least. I’ve got your back. That’s what friends do.” 


End file.
